


Graduation blues

by cherriesjubilee



Series: Summertime [1]
Category: Super Junior
Genre: Little bit sad but mostly soft, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 16:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14835518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherriesjubilee/pseuds/cherriesjubilee
Summary: It's just another Friday night—Hyukjae lounging on Donghwa's old bed, tired from a night out with the whole gang, Bruno Mars blaring from the speakers—just like any other, except tomorrow they're graduating high school.





	Graduation blues

**Author's Note:**

> I've got the graduation blues myself so I had to get this out of my system! Was originally going to be a much cheerier memory of hyuk dying hae’s hair blue (hence the title), might still write that :)

It's just another Friday night—Hyukjae lounging on Donghwa's old bed, tired from a night out with the whole gang, the sounds of a typhoon brewing coming in from the open window, Bruno Mars blaring from the speakers—just like any other, except tomorrow they're graduating high school. Donghae looks up quietly from mindlessly scrolling on his phone to watch Hyukjae nodding along to the music, hanging upside-down from the bed he's practically taken over now that Donghwa's in college.

  
College.

  
_College_.

  
College, which is rushing at them too quickly from a future that had seemed a dream only yesterday. College, four years and 3,000 miles from his best friend of more than half his life. He can feel the panic rising in his throat as his thoughts spiral, so he fucking—forces—it—down and refocuses on Hyukjae's rarely exposed forehead, glowing in the lamplight. There's something so perfect about him there in Donghae's room, pretty mouth outlining the lyrics of “Count On Me,” feet probably stinking up Donghwa's pillows, raised arms grown strong and sturdy but still just those of a skinny almost-adult boy. He looks like he belongs.

  
And suddenly Donghae's crying.

  
“Whoa, whoa,” catching sight of him, Hyukjae pops up on the bed, fringe flipping down over his eyes.

“Donghaaaae,” he chides softly, “what's wrong?” Vision blurry from the tears now steaming down his face—because Donghae doesn't do anything by halves, least of all crying—and throat too sticky to talk, he just shakes his head. Hyukjae probably knows the answer anyway, his arms already outstretched in comfort. Blindly Donghae flops into them, and Hyukjae tries to breathe with his face muffled in Donghae's old worn Star Wars shirt as he reaches up to awkwardly pat his face.

  
“Ow,” Donghae says gingerly when Hyukjae misses and pokes him under his reading glasses.

  
“Sorry.” He smoothes his cheek in apology. They stay like that for a moment, Donghae's forehead pressed fiercely into his fluffy hair, until Donghae’s calm enough to speak.

  
“You'll still tell me all your secrets,” Donghae sniffles, “won't you?” It's a bit childish but also so very Donghae, and Hyukjae knows just what he means so he holds back the tears that spring to his own eyes as he disentangles them and holds his wet face with gentle hands.

  
“Hey.” Donghae isn't looking at him, short eyelashes turned down and stuck with tears, and Hyukjae carefully presses them away and tries again. “Hey, Donghaek. Of course I will. I like telling you everything. And I like that you make me tell you everything.” He smiles, rueful, endearing. Anything for a laugh from Donghae, which sputters out through fading tears.

  
“Come on,” he says, pulling Donghae to the center of the room, “No more sad.” He taps his nose with two long fingers. “Let's dance.”

  
They know how, of course, to freestyle it to some pop song, both having started at the local studio when they were just gangly preteens, but he thinks this dance should be a little different. So they stand straight and proper, hands clasped in the air, and Hyukjae likes the warmth of Donghae’s callused palm and solid grasp on his shoulder while he pulls him closer by the hip. There's an unspoken tension in the way they hold each other, heightened by the unfamiliar position and the only-slightly-unserious waltz and the thought of things that change too fast and too much. When the first bars of “Marry You” float out from the speaker Hyukjae almost slams the skip button to avoid the implications of something they've been tiptoeing around for three years, but he knows he wouldn't be able to explain himself without prying everything apart.

  
He sets his jaw and tries not to look away from the nervous light in Donghae’s eyes and they step, spin, mumble along to the parts they know, and if they revolve ever closer into each other’s space and Donghae stumbles onto Hyukjae’s chest and lays a cheek on his shoulder blade so his lips brush his jaw so, so slightly at every turn and Hyukjae’s face heats to a burning red, neither of them think about what it means. There's still a little time left in the song when they part and a lot of time left in the summer for a beginning more subtle than a graduation ceremony, so they let it be. For now, a dance under the moon is enough.

  
It's just another Friday night.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't know how Korean high schools work but I can't imagine they're too different from Taiwanese ones! Hae and hyuk are going to college at opposite ends of America.


End file.
